


The Three Wise Men (Don't Live in this house)

by Steph_Schell



Series: Dark!Charlie [4]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Character, Drinking to Cope, Drunken Confessions, Gen, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph_Schell/pseuds/Steph_Schell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte just wants to keep Miles alive.  And if a few people have to die for that to happen then so be it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title references the cocktail The Three Wise Men which is made by combining three different types of whiskey

Priscilla frowned as a maid announced that Mrs. Monroe had come to see her. "Charlotte," she greeted. "I didn't think we had anything scheduled today."

Charlie slipped off her jacket. Priscilla paused to admire the elegant blue and black corset dress. "We didn't," Charlie admitted. "Do you mind if I stay?"

"Of course not. I was just about to put some tea on. Come sit with me."

Maids scurried to set another place for Charlie. The two women settled across from each other and Priscilla poured them both tea. "I am sorry for bursting in on you," Charlie sighed.

"It's fine. I'm always happy to have friends over." Priscilla looked the young woman up and down. "You've been to see Miles, I take it."

"I was just there," Charlie nodded. "It's…depressing."

"How so? Is he still drinking?"

"Like whiskey was water."

"I thought you put a stop to that."

"I tried. He's still getting it from somewhere." Charlie sipped her tea. "I was hoping I could ask a favor."

"You know I'd do anything for a friend."

"I need you to find out where he's getting his store from." Charlie shook her head. "I don't want him to die, Priscilla. He's the closest family I have and he's just letting himself go. It's like he doesn't even care anymore."

"Couldn't you just ask him where he gets it?"

"Don't you think I've tried? Miles won't talk to me. He won't talk to anyone but those two harlots he keeps holed up with him. But he's killing himself and I want him to stop."

Priscilla calmly sipped her tea. "I suppose you don't' want me to use the usual methods then."

"That's why I asked you rather than William. The whole point of this is to keep Miles from being hurt."

Priscilla was pretty sure Miles Matheson could do with getting hurt. But she was smart enough not to say so in Charlie's presence. "I'll do it of course. Give me a day to get things ready. This is a delicate situation."

"No doubt," Charlie agreed. She smiled softly, looking more her age than she usually did. "Thank you so much for all of this. I owe you a favor now."

"You owe me nothing until I provide you with results." Priscilla was nothing if not fair in her dealings with Charlie. "Now let's talk of more pleasant things. How is Sebastian doing? He's been working so hard the past few days. Almost no one has seen him in nearly a week."

"That is true. But it's hard work running an entire continent." Charlotte smiled. "Still, my Sebastian is a born leader. Though I do intend to have him take a break soon. I wouldn't want him to wear himself out. Now tell me about your daughters. They're doing well I hope?"

The two women chatted idly about their families as they finished their tea. Soon it came time for Charlie to go. "I will take care of that problem for you," Priscilla promised.

"Thank you again. And you'll let me know what you find out?"

"I'll do one better. I'll bring them straight to you."

Charlotte grinned. "Priscilla Strausser, you are a true friend."

"I do what I can," Priscilla replied modestly. She shut the door and paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she went to her garden to gather herbs. Charlotte was the sort of person you wanted to keep happy at all times. And Priscilla had learned from Julia Neville's mistakes. Her family wouldn't be taking risky jobs any time soon. They would stay in their comfortable mansion right here in the capital and focus on keeping the ruling couple happy.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, in the second grandest house in the city, Nora and Rachel were attempting to make lunch. "Should we make enough for Miles?" Nora asked.

"When was the last time he was sober enough to eat?" Rachel countered. Then she sighed. "Go on and add some. We'll force feed him if we have to."

"We usually have to," Nora chuckled.

Their heads snapped up as the door eased open. "Charlie isn't supposed to be here today," Rachel said.

"No one else visits here," Nora reminded her. "Except Monroe."

Both of them started breathing rapidly. "Those are heels," Rachel stated.

"Miles? Miles Matheson!"

Nora swallowed. "That's Priscilla Strausser."

"Are you sure?'

Nora ran a hand over the scars on her arms. "I'm very sure."

"Then we shouldn't be out here," Rachel declared. "Through the pantry." She grabbed Nora by the arm and pulled her through the secret door in the pantry."

As they hid inside the walls, Priscilla and her guards made their way up to Miles' sitting room. She used the key Charlie had provided to enter. "Visiting hours for the prisoner are 10-6 every other Thursday."

Priscilla smiled at the slouched figure. "Miles Matheson," she greeted. "Witty as ever I see."

Miles cracked a smile. "I do try."

"Do you mind if I turn the lanterns up? I hear you're not a fan of natural light these days."

"Does it matter? Not like I'm in any shape to take on your goon squad."

Priscilla nodded and two of her soldiers moved to turn up the lamps. MIlse was shown to be slumped in a chair, whiskey bottle in hand, clearly well on his way to be blacked out from drinking. "You look like hell," she stated.

The half broken smile stayed on his face. "I figured I would match my surroundings."

Priscilla settled across from him like a queen. "Your humor might still be intact but I hear that's about all that is."

"Is that so?" Miles asked, raising the whiskey bottle to his lips again.

"I've talked with your doctors. Projected liver failure in what? Four years?"

The pained, self-deprecating smile turned into an almost grin. "Two if I'm lucky. But I can't imagine you're too interested in that."

"On the contrary. A friend has asked me to be very interested in that." Miles snorted as he went to drink from the bottle again. He frowned when he realized there was nothing left. "You seem to be out of whiskey."

"And what a shame that is," Miles agreed.

"It just so happens I have whiskey." Priscilla snapped her fingers and a guard came forward with a bottle. "Johnny Walker Blue. That's pre-Blackout."

Miles glared at the bottle suspiciously. "Why in the hell would you want to help me destroy my liver further?"

"First, I don't care one way or the other how long it takes your liver to fail. I'm here as a favor to Charlie. It's her interest, not mine. Second, this is a gift. And you get it when you do something for me."

"Normally I'd agree without hesitation but I'm actually afraid of your husband."

Priscilla chuckled. "Will and I have a very satisfying sex life, thank you. No, all you have to do is drink this tea I brought along." A guard set the tea pot between them.

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because I asked."

"And why are you asking?"

"I like my conversational companions to be sober when I speak to them."

"Honey, it's going to take a lot more than that to sober me up."

"No doubt. But it should at least give you the illusion of sobriety. Now be a good boy and drink a glass or two."

"Maybe I don't want to talk to you."

"Then I don't leave and you don't get your whiskey."

Miles considered her words. The tea wouldn't' do much to fight his drunken state and he was no more than three glasses away from passing out. He couldn't get any whiskey on his own in this state. He'd break his neck just trying to cross the room. The women would never come near so long as Priscilla sat across from him so that option was also out. "Pour it," he ordered.

Priscilla nodded to the guard who poured Miles a full glass. "Drink," she told him.

"Aren't you drinking?"

"I am not the one who needs to be sober, Mr. Matheson."

If Miles had been less drunk that might have sent alarm bells ringing through his head. But a bottle and a half of whiskey meant he could barely tell which way was up. "Whatever," he muttered.

"Drink all of it please."

Miles did as she asked. His head felt fuzzier after the tea was done. "You spike this?" he asked.

"Never mind that. You need another glass before you and I can talk," Priscilla said. The guard handed Miles another glass to drink. "How are you feeling?'

Mils wanted to snap about being in a therapy session. Instead he answered honestly. "My head…is fuzzy. My mouth is…dry."

"Good it's working. Let's talk, Miles. How have you been getting around the whiskey restriction?"

"It's brought to me…extra bottles."

"Do the merchants bring it?"

"No."

"Who?"

"Them."

Priscilla made an impatient noise. "Who is them?"

"Nora…Rachel."

"Where do Nora and Rachel get it?"

"They…they go…go out. Late…when no one sees them. They buy it in the mar…shops."

"And they bring it here?"

"Yes."

"Are they here now?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Don't know. They…they hide. In the walls."

Priscilla pursed her lips. "Very well, I think we're done here." She looked at the guards. "I'm a woman of my word. Give Mr. Matheson his whiskey." They set the bottle next to Miles' chair. "You, guard him. The rest of you, tear this place apart until you've found Nora Clayton. Then take her to Mrs. Monroe."

"Where is she, ma'am?"

"At the tailor's I believe. If not, at her house. Go now."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Priscilla left as her men began to tear the place apart just as she had ordered. Rachel and Nora clung to each other in the secret passage as they heard the ruckus. "They can't find us in here," Rachel whispered.

"Why are they looking?" Nora demanded.

Rachel didn't have time to answer as one of the secret doors slammed open. "Run!" she ordered.

The two of them darted down narrow corridors and twisted paths. The militia tried to pursue them but the hallways were designed small. Even the underfed women couldn't fit shoulder to shoulder. "Where do we go?" Nora called.

"I don't know, keep running!"

Rachel had been keeping a tight grip on Nora's arm and was brought up short when she felt a tug. One of the militia had grabbed Nora's other arm. "Help me," Nora begged.

Rachel pulled but her weak muscles were no match for the hardened soldiers. They dragged a screaming Nora from the passage. "Nora!"

"Help me!"

Rachel wasn't stupid enough to think she could take on even a single militia guard. She waited until the sound of booted feet was only an echo in the house. Then she ran to the rooms at the very top. "Miles! Miles!"

She burst into Miles' bedroom, frantically searching for her brother in law. "Miles, where are you? Miles! Miles, they took her!"

Rachel found Miles passed out on the floor of his sitting room. "Miles," she called, shaking him. "Miles, please wake up. Please, they took her."

"Ungh," Miles groaned. Rachel ran to the bathroom for water.


	3. Chapter 3

A shaking and bound Nora was paraded through the streets, militia on all sides. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

"You'll see," a guard snapped.

They made their way to a grand house. A meek looking man came to the door. "She's out back," he said.

The guards dragged Nora to the back of the house where sliding glass doors stood open. The only figure in the garden was a woman in a flowy, short sleeved peasant blouse and long brown skirt leaning over the flowers. Her hair was up in an artful bun with a white ribbon. All in all, the picture of a classy, well to do woman. "Ma'am, Mrs. Strausser ordered this prisoner brought straight to you."

Charlotte turned to them with a shark's smile. "Hello, Miss Clayton," she greeted.

Gold links of chain circled her wrists and neck. Her earrings were studs of gold. Nora had a wild thought of how much wealth the Republic must have now before coming back to the present. "Ch-Charlie," she stuttered out.

Charlotte's eyes flashed as she gripped the orchid in her hand tightly. "My name is Charlotte Monroe," she snapped. "And I'll thank you to address me properly."

"Yes, Mrs. Monroe," Nora whispered.

The brilliant, calculating smile was back. "Much better. Now you and I have business to conduct, Ms. Clayton." Charlotte moved with lazy, swinging steps back inside the house. "You don't mind if we use your living room, do you, Mr. Kyle?'

"No, ma'am," the meek man answered.

Charlotte nodded. "I thought not." She fiddled with orchid as she made herself comfortable in the leather arm chair. "Now, what is it that the prisoner is accused of?"

"She's been the one buying whiskey for your uncle," one of the guards explained.

Charlotte shook her head. "Miss Clayton, are you aware that I gave strict orders for only one bottle of whiskey a week to be delivered to my uncle's house?"

"Yes."

"And do you know why?"

"He drinks too much."

"That he does," Charlotte agreed. "I've spoken with his doctors. His liver isn't going to last forever you know." Charlotte pursed her lips. "And yet you insist on helping him to destroy himself." She shook her head. "It's like you don't' care about him at all."

"I care about him more than you do."

Charlotte's eyes turned to ice. "I don't want him to die."

"Miles would rather die than watch what you've become," Nora whispered.

Charlotte gripped the stem of flower tightly to hold herself back. "You are very disrespectful," she hissed through clenched teeth. "And you need to be taught manners."

Nora lifted her chin. "By you?"

Charlotte snorted. "I'd never sully my hands with the likes of you." The cunning smile returned. "Perhaps Priscilla needs another crack at you. She didn't do a proper job last time."

Nora began to shake. "No."

"Take her to the dungeons. Then tell Priscilla…" Charlotte paused in consideration. "Actually, tell her husband he has a new client."

Nora whimpered at the thought of being worked over by William Strausser. "Please, no," she begged.

Just as the guards were preparing to drag her away, a new soldier ran in. "Mrs. Monroe," he panted, "it's your uncle."

The mask of Charlotte Monroe fell away and Nora found herself looking at Charlie once more. "What's wrong with Miles?"

"He…he was standing on the step with a glass bottle…and he smashed it."

"Smashed it?"

"Yes, ma'am…he …he slashed his wrists. He's calling for you. And the woman." He jerked his head towards Nora but Charlie wasn't listening anymore.

The color drained from her face. "Miles," she whispered. She dropped her flower and ran from the house. The guards followed her, dragging Nora along behind them.

The whole lot of them burst into Miles' house. He was flat on his back at the top of the stairs. Rachel was next to him but she hid in one of the bedrooms as soon as she noticed them. Charlie didn't pay attention to any of it. Her focus was totally on Miles. She tripped twice on her skirt as she scrambled up the steps and continued up on her hands and knees. "Miles?" she called, pulling his body into her arms. "Miles, please be okay."

"I…will be," he groaned.

"Of course you will," Charlie agreed. "I'll take care of you. Just like with the fever."

Miles laughed weakly. "I don't need that kind of care. Look at my wrists Charlie."

Charlie did as he asked. His wrists had been slashed left to right but the blood was tacky between her fingers. "It's…it's slowing."

"It's not fatal," Miles told her. "It'll still like a bitch but it'll heal."

"Then why?"

"Had to get your attention somehow."

"You've got it."

"These wounds aren't permanent but I can make them that way. You harm a hair on Nora's head and I swear the next time you come running for me it'll be because I'm bleeding out on the floor."

"I'll take away the sharp objects," Charlie countered.

Miles laughed again. "Do you honestly think if I want to go quick I can't find a way?"

Charlie felt tears prick at her eyes. "I just want to protect you," she whispered.

"I don't need your protection. Now make your choice."

Charlie growled in frustration. "Let her go," she called.

"Ma'am?" one of the guards replied.

Charlie whipped around. "I said let her go. Now do it before I order you to take her place."

The guards quickly unbound Nora. She was so spooked she could only hurry to the corner and curl up there. Miles raised himself up so he could see that she was unharmed. "Get out of my house," he ordered.

Charlotte was on her feet and storming down the stairs in moments. "Let's go," she snapped. "I have better things to do than stand around here all day."

The three occupants of the house held their breath as the militia left. Then Nora got to her feet and scrambled up the stairs. She was in Miles' arms before he knew what was going on. "I've got you," he whispered. "It's okay, I've got you."

Nora clutched at him. "She was going to send me to Strausser," she whimpered.

"I would never let that happen. You know that."

"Thought you were passed out from all the whiskey."

"Eh, Rachel woke me. I couldn't' let you be hurt."

Nora looked around them. "Are we kneeling in whiskey?"

"Jonnie Walker Blue," Miles nodded. "I sacrificed pre-Blackout whiskey for you."

"Aw, you do love me," Nora said with a wet giggle.

Miles wiped her eyes with his thumb. "You know I do," he replied. "Now let's get you standing. Are you sure you're not hurt?"

Nora shook her head as he helped her to her feet. "Not badly anyway. Just a little sore from being dragged."

Miles pulled her back into his arms. Rachel poked her head out of her room. Seeing that the danger was gone she hurried to join Miles and Nora at the landing. Miles shifted so he was embracing Rachel as well. "We're fine," he murmured. "We're all safe."

The 'For Now' hung between them in the air.


End file.
